


Hallowed Be Thy Greg

by suzvoy



Category: House M.D., Joan of Arcadia
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-15
Updated: 2004-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-21 20:56:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/229759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suzvoy/pseuds/suzvoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>God is now her doctor. It figures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hallowed Be Thy Greg

**Author's Note:**

> Christmas present for Bonnie! Yay Bonnie! I won't even hug you. See how much I love you? ;D
> 
> Whoever owns the shows owns them, and...er...I don't. Yeah. It's a House/Joan of Arcadia crossover! Which are two of Bonnie's favourite shows.
> 
> Many thanks, as always, to the wonderful nel_ani.

Joan hates God with a passion that she's never felt for anything else, not even Adam. Not even that My Little Pony set she wanted when she was six. She's never felt this strongly about anything in her entire - and okay, so she hasn't lived that long - teenage life.

God.

*Sucks*.

God claims He's above being petty, but Joan knows better. He has just as much ego as anyone else she's ever met - herself included - so she lays on the bed and tries to think of anything she's done lately that might have annoyed him, because that stuff about God not being vengeful?

Ha!

What about that forty days and forty nights thing?

God doesn't just throw hissy fits; He throws storms and lightning, having decided that apparently creating everything ever makes him important or something.

Whatever.

Whimpering at the pain, Joan tries to get back to moaning about God and ignore the fact that she's dying.

"You're not dying," a voice says, and Joan thinks she must have spoken her misery without realising it.

It's absolutely impossible that there's anything left inside her stomach, but her body's still warning her that what's left of her stomach - the lining, maybe - will shortly be landing on the man's shoes.

Joan blinks, leaning over the side of the bed.

And his cane.

"Whoareyou?" she slurs, trying to lay back down, but she has to do it sloooooowly or her body's going to attempt that whole upheaval thing again. Being sick officially sucks. Almost as much as God does.

"Well," the man says, "I could be a random stranger who decided to drive all the way to the hospital, travel up three floors in the elevator and then walk into your room just to look at your medical chart. Or," he throws the chart that she realises he's been holding towards the end of the bed, "I *could* be your doctor."

No, no. "Other doctor here earlier." Trying to speak is a really bad idea.

"I owed Cuddy a favour," he sighs heavily, "and didn't she just *love* holding that over me? So," he continues, and Joan is confused already, "are you enjoying your vacation?"

She wants to say, "I've been redecorating the room with my insides; what you do you think?" but she's too sick and too tired to produce anything nearly that complicated. "No," she grunts. "How did you know?"

And then it hits her.

The sarcasm, that obvious sense of superiority, the fact that he knows she's on vacation even though she hasn't told him...God is now her doctor. It figures.

"I hate you," she gasps before He can say anything.

"And I was so hoping we'd be braiding each other's hair later," He retorts, and it's really annoying that God is never surprised by *anything*. "Where'd you go for dinner last night? Someplace nice?" And the way He just changes subjects.

"Like you don't know," she snorts, which is a really bad idea because her throat is still raw and *ow*. "Where's Mom?" she whines, because if God won't take care of her at least Mom will.

"You mean that woman who was here earlier?" He asks. "I suppose she must be your mother, because - let's face it - who else would put up with you?" Wow, God is getting *mean*. "I think she went to get a drink. Something to eat. Mmm, tasty."

Eat. Food. Her stomach rolls.

"So you woke up this morning and immediately started vomiting, correct?"

Joan hadn't even wanted to come on this stupid vacation. But after the crazy camp and then Judith, Mom had decided that 'the girls' needed some 'quality time together'.

Then she'd woken up this morning, greeting the hotel room with a new colour scheme called Hint of Stomach and Mom had freaked. Now she was here, the nearest hospital.

Vacations sucked. God sucked. Life really really sucked.

"Yes," she breaths, "you know this."

"And, I'm just gonna guess here, but let's say you had something really yummy for dinner that you didn't even realise was undercooked."

Under...cooked? "What?"

He sighs. "You have food poisoning. Campylobacter bacteria is most likely, though it generally takes longer to produce symptoms." Looking thoughtful for a few moments, He smiles. It's seriously disturbing. "Maybe you got really lucky and it's E. Coli."

The fact that He says that like it's a good thing is even more disturbing. And Joan's *heard* of E. Coli, and though she can't remember anything specific, she definitely knows it was all kinds of bad and horrible things. "Is it serious? Could I...die?"

God shrugs. "Possibly."

Eyes suddenly filling with tears, Joan's surprised her body can produce any more liquid at all. "I could die from this?"

"You could die from this. You could get hit by an ambulance tomorrow. Or maybe a meteor will smack into the hospital in the next five minutes. Anything's possible," He tells her, looking serious, "but is it probable?"

She's dying, and now He wants to teach her something? "This is some lesson about not taking life too seriously, isn't it?"

God frowns. "No, I'm reasonably sure I was giving you your odds of survival."

But Joan's sick, tired and she's scared, and she's beyond listening to him right now. "So...what? Giving me Lyme Disease wasn't good enough for you? You had to do *this* as well?"

Frowning even more, God reaches over and picks her chart back up. "Nothing here about a head injury," He mutters, looking through it.

"I'm too young to die!" she wails, and for the first time ever since He started talking to her, God actually looks surprised.

"You're not going to die," He states firmly, "except maybe from hysteria. Food poisoning *can* be fatal, but you're in good physical health. Most people are too stupid to go to a doctor when they develop symptoms and they survive just fine. But your mother brought you here, where we can make your recovery easier and faster, all with a cheery smile."

Joan can't decide which is creepier - mean God, or the God who's actually trying to make her happy.

"Honey?"

"Mom!" Mom is here and running towards her and Joan is so pathetic (and really glad Adam isn't around to witness the level of sheer patheticness). "Where were you?!"

Mom is gently brushing her forehead, knowing better by now than to attempt to move her. "I was just calling your father, honey."

God speaks, then. "Ah, the mother!" He tells her what He told Joan - though He has to be reminded of Joan's name three times.

She *knows* He's doing that on purpose.

He says something about stool samples and dehydration, and then He doesn't even say goodbye as He turns away.

As she watches him go, Mom's voice a soothing presence next to her, Joan wonders if kicking God's cane out from under him would be childish.

~FINIS


End file.
